The Princess
by SunWillRise2340
Summary: Her story was never told. Until now.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story I wrote for my Mum's birthday...I hope you like it! (It will be in two parts!) It's based on Lavinia by Ursula Le Guin, but that's based on the Aeneid, so it's about the Aeneid. Enjoy!**

**P.S. taking a leaf out of my best friend's book...I don't think I've ever lived in Ancient Latium, so I assume I'm not Virgil!**

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_All I want is the wind in my hair to face the fear but not be scared…_

I laugh as Sagitta gallops faster and faster along the river, her black mane whipping in the wind, her tail flying out behind her. I cling tightly to her neck as she flies across the beach at the river mouth, slowing to a stately trot as we approach the edge of the water. As she halts, I slide off her back, giving her a pat on the neck before she wheels around, galloping off again to the north. I stand and watch as she disappears into the distance, before gathering up the end of my long white stola, and sitting in the shade of the cliffs.

I tip my head back against the cool rock, letting a droplet of water fall onto my nose and roll down my face – almost as if I am crying. But I'm not. I refuse to cry here – well, I refuse to cry at all. I never have – not since I grew up.

I focus my gaze on the bay, watching the soft undulation of the blue-green sea water as it meets the clear blue of the river. Suddenly I start upright – narrowing my eyes at a line of black shapes in the distance. Ships; black ones with bristling oars protruding from the sides. Ships. I wonder why they're here.

All afternoon I watch the ships get closer from my seat under the cliffs. As they draw near, I hear the faint song of the oarsmen and the muffled beat of the oars against the water. Still I stay seated, back propped against the cliff, face expressionless as I watch them go past me and down the river.

When I go home, I find my father sitting in his chamber. "Father, I saw a fleet of warships go up the river this morning," I tell him.

He looks at me; his face sad. "So soon," is all he says.

_They're just like water off my wings…_

There are lots of things I can tell you about me.

One, my name is Lavinia.

Two, I am the daughter of King Latinus and Queen Amata of Latium.

Three, I have long dark brown curls and blue-green eyes with long lashes and pale skin – I am often called the most beautiful girl in the whole of Latium. When people see me, they presume that I sit inside in front of my mirror all day – that no girl who looks like I do could possibly be real. But that's as far from the truth as it gets. I spend all day every day outside – climbing trees, riding my wild mare, Sagitta, gathering food, hunting.

Four, I have many unwanted suitors. The most persistent of which is Turnus, King Turnus of neighbouring Ardea. He is handsome, so my women say, but he is an arrogant fool in my opinion. Knowing my mother, though, I am likely going to spend my days married to the said arrogant fool, which is not the future I have envisioned for myself.

The aforementioned suitor is visiting at the minute – naturally, I have disappeared into the woodland as I do whenever he comes to stay. I am perfectly safe from him here as no-one knows my woodland as well as I do – no-one has a hope of finding me. I know when I return, my father will be reproachful, as always, and my mother will berate me for not acting like I'm supposed to. Like a princess. But I always stand with my mouth closed and my head down and listen patiently to her lectures, before quietly going back to my room to lie down.

Laughing at my depressing thoughts of Turnus, I swing lightly down from my tree, retrieving the bow and arrows I stashed in its trunk. I sling the quiver over my shoulder, and start to walk deeper into the woods, like a shadow. My friend, Silvia, says I move like the wind – I'm there, and then I'm gone. I laugh at her, and say that I've learnt the art of walking quietly, not crashing through the forest like she does. But then she pulls my braid and tells me that not all of us can be gifted the way I am. I think I detect an undertone of jealousy in her words, although she hides it very well.

As I walk, I listen to the birdsong, relish the feeling of the warm sun on my face and the soft earth beneath my bare feet. My senses become more alert as I climb a hill, and cross a stream. This is bear and wolf territory now – and a small, slight seventeen-year-old is no match for a wild beast. I have to be ready to climb a tree or run, whichever comes first.

But as it turns out, the threat is not from wolves or bears. As I enter a small glade with a streamlet flowing from a great rock in the centre, I hear voices – voices of a hunting party. I start – I mustn't allow myself to get caught! I cast around me for a suitable tree – my eyes settling on a great old oak, the branches curved like a ladder. In a flash, I am up it, settling comfortably in a fork high off the ground. I am just in time – no sooner am I alighted upon my branch, a party of men pour into the clearing. But…these are not like any other men…these are different…I've never seen them before, and Turnus would be hunting with his companions – dumb idiots who I have had the pleasure of meeting many times before. The lead huntsman – a tall, dark, handsome man who looks to be in his late twenties, early thirties looks around him. Another man comes and claps him on the shoulder. "Aeneas, face it. Your prey is well and truly gone," he says to great laughter from the other men.

The man called Aeneas smiles slightly – a peculiar half-smile that makes him look more like a god than a human. "Achates, my friend, you misunderstand me. I thought I saw a streak of white – not prey."

"White?" a young boy who could be no more than fourteen, asks.

"Yes," Aeneas says, a small frown creasing his forehead. Another man next to the one called Achates nudges him, and points upwards.

"Your prey, I think," he says loudly. "Right there in that tree."

Well, no chance to hide now. Aeneas turns around, his gaze falling upon me. I keep my face impassive as I look down on them, meeting Aeneas' dark eyes. Inside, my heart thumps frantically as I try to stop a blush colouring my cheeks.

"Good morning, sirs," I say haughtily.

"Good morning," the one called Achates replies cheerfully. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

I incline my head ever so slightly. "Beautiful." I make no move to continue the conversation, and neither do they. I am still very aware of Aeneas' eyes on my face. The boy speaks up next. "Father, is she a nymph?" he looks puzzled.

"What do you think?" Aeneas asks – directing his question to the boy, but still staring at me. His voice is warm and deep, reminding me of rich honey dripping..._That is enough, Lavinia._

I answer it for him. "I am a girl, not a nymph."

"And may we know your name?" he asks me this time.

I raise my head and glare coolly at him. "Lavinia."

He bows his dark head very slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Mistress Lavinia. We will be on our way."

And with that, he and his men depart the clearing, leaving me alone with the birds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is Chapter Two...enjoy!**

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_And when you take, you take the very best of me…_

"Lavinia, girl, we have a visitor feasting with us tonight," my mother says. I look up from my weaving to take in the slight scowl adorning her face. "You will attend," she glares pointedly at me, "And you will dress appropriately."

"Yes, mother," I say quietly, turning back to my weaving. I hate doing it, but she insists – apparently the only thing wives are good for is to weave and to have children. Stupid, if you want to ask me.

I spend another five minutes with my loom, making a mess of my weaving, but then I beg leave to 'get ready' as I put it. I escape to my bedroom on the other side of the women's chambers, along with my only friend in the palace, my slave-girl, Maruna.

"I wonder who this guest is." Maruna muses, as I perch on my bed. She kneels by my chest and starts to riffle through my meagre collection of stolas.

"I have no idea," I admit. "But I swear to the gods, if it's another suitor, I'm out of here. I don't care what my parents say."

Maruna looks up at me, a cheeky smile stretched across her face. "Well, if we know your mother, this poor man doesn't have any chance of winning your hand."

"Knowing my mother," I sigh. "She favours Turnus so much – it's like she wants to marry him herself!"

"Lavinia!" Maruna looks shocked. "You mustn't say things like that!"

"I can say what I like," I say recklessly. "She can't hear me."

Maruna looks around nervously, then turns her attention back to the chest.

_When I fall, I fall hard. Guess that's what I get for standing tall…_

I hold my head high as I enter the great hall, the end of my cleanest white stola brushing the flagstone floor. The braided leather belt at my waist is slightly too tight, forcing me to stand upright, and my curls have been brushed so that they shine, and tied into a loose knot at the nape of my neck.

I look along the high table as I take my seat; looking for this mysterious guest. My eyes alight on a man just taking his chair a couple of places down from me. His dark hair falls over his face, but when he looks up…_oh gods, why me? Why me? Did it have to be him?_ My inner thoughts are in turmoil as I look at the familiar features of the huntsman from three days ago. Aeneas. That was his name. I look down at my plate, letting a curl that has escaped the knot fall over my face.

During the meal, my father talks happily to Aeneas – discussing something about a far off land that I have never heard of. My mother sits with a frown on her face, picking at her food. I know she's annoyed that Aeneas is here – and in such close proximity to me. I swear, she won't rest until Turnus and I are wedded and bedded – that is a rather terrifying thought.

At the end of the meal, my father looks down the table, catching sight of me. Oh, here we go. "Lord Aeneas," he says jovially. "I don't believe I have introduced you to my daughter, Lavinia. Lavinia, this is Aeneas – he's travelled here from a distant city, called Troia."

"How interesting," I murmur as Aeneas' eyes widen ever so slightly. He seems to be about to say something, but stops, tilting his head to one side, and looking puzzled. Thank the gods he's held his tongue.

"Yes, very interesting," my mother's tone is brittle – her face is unnaturally white, with two spots of colour burning high on her cheeks. I take her expression, and sink a little lower in my seat.

"For the gods' sake, girl, sit up!" she hisses at me. My cheeks colour, and I murmur an apology, sitting up straighter, and concentrating my attention on my empty plate.

"Amata, calm down," my father says quietly. Aeneas and his friends have averted their eyes, and are discussing something that seems to be a great source of amusement to Achates, who is roaring with laughter and clapping Aeneas on the back.

My mother is glaring at my father. "I cannot believe you have invited him here!" she snaps at Father.

He looks over at our guests. "Amata, my love, calm down," he says, trying to pacify her.

"I will not calm down!" her tone has risen in pitch and volume. "I know what you're doing!"

"I'm not doing anything, love," Father says. "Aeneas and his friends have travelled a long way. It is our custom to offer hospitality."

She stares accusingly at me and Father. "You are plotting against me!" she jabs a finger at Father. "You mean to marry Lavinia off to him – whilst Turnus is the worthier man by far!"

"Amata." Father's voice is tight with rage. "You will not discuss this here."

"I will discuss it when I want to!" she snaps, pushing the table back with a screech. "And that is now." She stalks out of the hall without a backward glance.

My father sighs, and stands up. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm sorry." Then he hurries after my mother, leaving me sitting there in awkward silence.

_I'll be strong; I'll be wrong…oh, but life goes on…_

As soon as I can excuse myself politely, I escape the hall, running barefoot out into the courtyard. The night air is cool on my face – it goes a long way to calming me down. It was a fiasco in there – poor Aeneas. He really didn't deserve that.

"Lavinia?" a voice. His voice. I don't turn around.

"Yes?" I ask, trying to disguise the trembling of my voice. I could swear that the Fates are doing this on purpose – throwing us together so I can embarrass myself.

"You ran out. I was wondering what was wrong."

"Mother embarrassed me," I lie, shrugging one shoulder, gathering up my confidence, and turning to face him. He's leaning, relaxed, against the laurel tree at the edge of the courtyard, his dark eyes fixed intently on my face. That distinct half-smile is adorning his face, making me catch my breath slightly.

"Coincidence, isn't it?" he asks, standing upright and taking a few steps over to me.

"What is?" I ask nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow.

"That you turn out to be the princess of Latium."

"Well, what did you think I was?" I curse myself for sounding so stupid, but he merely laughs.

"A goat-girl who'd got lost in the woods."

"That's not nice," I say indignantly, before realising to my horror that I sound like a petulant child.

"It's perfectly fair," he remarks. "How was I to know that the princess of the land wanders around the woodland in her free time?"

"I was hiding, actually," I inform him coolly, placing a hand on my hip and staring him down. Surprisingly, he doesn't follow up with the anticipated 'from whom?' Rather, he just looks at me, then smiles that trademark smile yet again.

"Princess Lavinia, you are full of surprises," he tells me. "Shall we go back indoors?"

"Yes," I say, inclining my head.

_The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star…_

In the morning, I rise with the dawn, putting on my old stola and braiding my hair into a simple plait hanging down my back. I go and wake my father, as is the custom, and then go outside to the pump to wash my hands and my face, before using my age-old strategy to get away from irritatingly attractive men. I disappear into the woods.

But much as I try to concentrate on the woodland around me, my thoughts keep drifting back to Aeneas – comparing him to Turnus. The two names roll around in my mind all morning, driving me to distraction until I wander back to the palace in the late afternoon, where I am confronted by Maruna.

"Where have you been?" she hisses, slapping my arm. "The king has been asking after you for hours!"

"I had to get away!" I plead with her. "I had to – it's driving me insane!"

Her expression softens slightly as she looks me up and down. "It's too late to change, Lavinia. Go straight to the throne room."

"Alright," I say, straightening my stola and brushing the dirt off my face as I walk slowly towards the throne room, wondering what on earth my father might want.

I find him sitting on his throne, staring into the hearth fire, looking pensive. "Father?" I say. He starts, a smile breaking across his face as he spots me.

"Lavinia, girl, come here. Sit." I go and perch on a footstool at his side, looking up at him.

He takes in a deep breath. "Lavinia…"

"Yes, Father?" I smile up at him.

"I've had a proposal of marriage for you."

I groan. "Oh, Father, not another one! And why is it such an important matter – I mean, Turnus…sorry, King Turnus proposes every time he's here…"

"It's from Aeneas," Father cuts me off quietly.

My mouth flops open unattractively. "Father…that's…"

"And I said yes," he continues. "He's a good man, Aeneas, and I want to make him my heir – Turnus doesn't need Latium as well as Ardea and to be perfectly honest, you're too good for him…"

He looks at me worriedly – knowing all to well that my temper can be explosive when it gets out of hand. Although my face remains expressionless, my thoughts are racing like wild horses. Yes, for some bizarre reason, I seem to be intensely attracted to Aeneas…but do I really want to be married to him? I'm not brave enough to let myself fall, let alone jump off a cliff! However I can't stop myself from smiling at the idea.

"Excellent!" My father beams at me. "I'll take that for a yes. I shall send a messenger to his camp and we will set a date…not too far off, mind you…I don't want you backing out…"

"Oh…Father…I…I…" I stutter. He waves his hand airily.

"It's no matter, daughter. You have at least a month to get used to the idea of being married. I'm sure your mother will help you."

"But, Father, what about Turnus? You know how desperately Mother…"

"We shall break it to her gently," he reassures me. "She will come around."


	3. Chapter 3

**Next chapter up already! Hahahaha!**

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_I can't ever be brave, 'cause you make my heart race…_

The sun shines down on me as I head out to the water meadows – the favourite haunt of Sagitta's wild-horse herd. As I reach the edge of the river, I see a familiar bay streak flying towards me. "Hello, beautiful!" I exclaim as Sagitta slows, trotting up to me, and giving me a big wet kiss. She whickers.

"I know you're gorgeous," I coo. "Up for a ride?"

She neighs and lets me lead her over to my preferred mounting block – a fallen tree that was hit by lightening a few years back. I hop onto it, easily jumping onto her back. I lean forward, and wrap my arms around her neck. She neighs again, and starts to trot, back up to the higher grounds. They're firmer than the water meadows – better for running.

The minute we've crested the hill at the south end of the highlands, Sagitta's off, running like her life depends on it. I shriek with exhilaration as we gallop as fast as we can. As we reach the northern end, Sagitta slows to a canter, breathing heavily. That's when I hear my name being called.

I twist around as best I can from Sagitta's back, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight. "Aeneas?" I call back, squinting at the lone figure on a great white horse trotting swiftly my way. I touch Sagitta's neck, making her turn around and walk towards the other rider. As we draw closer, I see that it is Aeneas.

"Hello," I say shyly.

"Hello," he smiles at me. Sagitta squeals and blows through her nostrils at the other horse. "Didn't expect to find you up here."

I shrug. "It's one of my favourite places," I say. "Sagitta and I come up here to run."

"She's lovely," Aeneas nods his head at Sagitta.

"She's wild," I say bluntly. I reach out to pat the other horse's nose. "What's his name?"

"Aktaion." Aeneas smiles very slightly. "He's a gift from your father."

I blush, and look away – intensely uncomfortable. My father mentioned giving him a horse in passing – something to do with a betrothal gift.

Suddenly, Aeneas says, "I bet that I can beat you to that hill."

I look up to see that his eyes are sparkling. "I bet you can't." I challenge.

"If I win, you have to tell me something about yourself."

"And if I win, you have to tell your deepest secrets," I say, half in jest. His brow furrows ever so slightly, but I lean forward to whisper in Sagitta's ear. Her ears prick up, and she starts to paw at the ground. I swear she understood every word I told her.

"Now…are you ready?" he asks, wheeling his horse around. "Go!"

We're off, flying across the bumpy ground, neck and neck until Aktaion puts on a burst of speed and draws ahead. I can't let Aeneas win. "Fly like the wind!" I whisper to Sagitta and ever so slowly the gap between us starts to close. I'm gaining fast as we approach the hill – and that's when Aeneas makes his fatal mistake. He starts to let Aktaion slow; Sagitta thunders past at the base of the hill.

"Victory!" I cry, raising an arm in triumph, and letting Sagitta slow to a halt. She snorts as I pat her neck, sliding off her back. Aeneas dismounts and lets Aktaion wander off to graze a small distance off. Sagitta whinnies, loudly, and I smile fondly at her she trots off behind the hill.

Aeneas sits down on the soft grass of the hill. "What do you want to know?" he sounds tired.

I perch next to him. "I don't mind," I say, flopping back onto the grass. "Whatever you're comfortable telling me." To be totally honest, I don't really want to pry.

"Uh…" he stares off silently into the distance, thinking. I sigh.

"It can be anything," I prompt. "Even likes and dislikes."

His expression clears slightly. "I can do that. Uh…I like sunny days."

I roll over onto my stomach. "Is that the best you can do?" I raise one eyebrow sceptically.

"I'd like to see you try!" he shoots back.

"Fine. Greetings, I'm Lavinia. I'm seventeen years old. I like climbing trees, paddling in streams, riding Sagitta and generally being outside. I don't like obnoxious or pompous people or incredibly annoying suitors…" I cough. "Hem hem, Turnus, hem."

He looks at me. "You don't think I'm annoying?" he doesn't sound hurt, just genuinely curious. I flush, realising my mistake.

"No, of course not…it's just Turnus intrudes upon our hospitality every three months or so, and he proposes every time he's here – not to mention the fact that my mother always treats him like her long-lost son," I ramble. "He's so thick that he'd never realise that 'no' means 'no'."

Aeneas looks slightly pensive as he watches the clouds. "Young men are often persistent," he says quietly.

"How would…never mind…silly question…" I blush again.

He seems amused. "I was a young man not so long ago, Lavinia."

"I wasn't…" I stutter. "Forget it."

We sit in companionable silence for a while, and then I slowly get to my feet. "I'd really better be getting back," I say. "It was lovely to talk."

"Goodbye," he says cordially, lifting a hand in farewell as I round the hill and walk away.

_I never saw it coming, wouldn't have suspected it…_

The night after Aeneas and I held our little impromptu horse race, my father hosts a grand dinner to formally celebrate our betrothal. Needless to say, the palace is thrown into complete disarray as slaves hurry around like ants in an ant nest, shouting at each other as they prepare.

My mother locks herself in her rooms; which is a small blessing in itself; but to my horror, she leaves Maruna a long list of instructions on my apparel. I, obviously, try to hide when I find out about this, but Maruna finds me and teases me about being a baby as we walk back to my chamber.

"Sit down," she orders. I obey, knowing it's no good to argue when Maruna is following orders.

It takes her the whole afternoon to 'ready' me for this dinner – to be honest, I don't know what all the fuss is about – Aeneas has seen me in my plain white stola with my hair braided and no make up at least twice…but, I guess no one else knows about that. So I submit to having my hair brushed until it shines, then arranged in a complicated, plaited knot at the back of my head, before Maruna helps me into the light white robes and the leather belt, placing a pretty beaten circlet of gold on my head, along with a chain with a teardrop blue gem on the end of it.

When she's done, I look every inch the princess. She holds out my sandals as I slide my feet into them, and holds open the door. I smile at her as I walk out, holding my head high, and making my way towards the great hall.

I am seated between my mother and Aeneas at the high table. To be brutally honest, I am surprised that my mother showed up at all – and she's shown up dressed in her finery. She's looking happier than I've ever seen her and she even deigns to converse politely with Aeneas a few times, although he seems more inclined to talk to me. We discuss the site for the new city that his men are going to help him build before our wedding – he wants to know how I would like it built, as I am to be it's queen.

After the main course is served, slaves place several jugs of sweetened wine on the table. "Wine, my darling?" Mother asks sweetly, taking my ceramic cup.

"Thank you," I break off from my conversation with Aeneas. I can't believe the change that's come over her since, well, since this afternoon when she was locked in her bedroom, sulking, I assume. Achates asks me a question about the city from where he's sitting opposite me, and I launch into another explanation, sipping my wine. After a while, I find my eyelids starting to droop slightly, and my mother intervenes smoothly. "I'm sorry, lords, but Lavinia needs her sleep. She'll be available to talk after the ceremony tomorrow."

"Of course," Aeneas says courteously. "Goodnight, Lavinia."

"Goodnight," I say as he takes my hand and kisses it gently, smiling at me. I manage a smile back; I'm suddenly so tired – I can't believe that it's crept up on me this quickly!

"Come, my love," Mother says, guiding me back to my bedroom. I stumble against her as she helps me in through the door of my room. I change into my sleeping tunic and climb into my bed. "Goodnight," I say sleepily.

"Goodnight," she says as I succumb to the tiredness.


	4. Chapter 4

_I know what I want…and it ain't you…_

I roll over and crash to the floor. My eyes flash open – where in Hades am I? I scramble to my feet, looking around wildly. A room, with grey stone walls, no windows and a heavy wooden door. No escape.

But how did I get here? All I remember is feeling so awfully tired, and my mother putting me to bed…my mother! She…she…must have drugged my wine…she…

The door slams open, interrupting my reverie. A figure stands in the doorway – a figure with fiery red hair, intense blue eyes and strong features. Turnus. I should've known.

I back into the corner and let out an animalistic hiss, warning him not to come any closer. He laughs, the insufferable fool. "Lavinia," he says, his deep voice booming around the small space. "My little love, my wife-to-be."

I glare at him, keeping my mouth firmly shut. I refuse to humour him by speaking. I won't.

He's across the chamber in two strides, standing so close to me, forcing me to press myself against the wall so I won't be touching him. He places a hand against my cheek and I jerk away; my head hitting the wall. Ow.

"You have lead us a wild goose chase, love. Promising to marry that…foreigner…" he smiles kindly down at me. I let my lips curl up to show my teeth and I snarl, doing my best impression of the deadliest of woodland creatures. He laughs again, but it is a harsh, cruel sound. "Mimicking a wolf, sweetheart?"

I glare again as he places his hands on my shoulders, pinning me against the wall, leaning so I have to look into his eyes. "You will be made my wife when May is over…then no-one will take you away from me."

He presses his lips to mine, and I instinctively recoil, trying to shove him away. It's horrible, horrible, I'm suffocating…

"Now, Turnus, none of that," a cold woman's voice echoes across the room. "You'll have enough time for that when you've married her."

He pulls away, stepping away from me, giving me a slight leer. I shudder.

"I'm sorry, Amata," he says. The woman steps further into the room. My mother.

"You!" I hiss, stepping forward to try and slap her, but Turnus grabs my hand, forcing it back with ease. He looks amused.

"She wouldn't speak for me," he laughs.

"My daughter has a stubborn streak." Mother narrows her eyes at me. "Inherited from her father, of course."

"Of course," Turnus smiles at her. She returns the smile. Her gaze turns cold as she looks back towards me.

"It will be overcome, though. It will." She grinds out. I stare her down, hands on my hips.

"I shall see you very soon," Turnus says to me with another leer. "Come, Amata."

"Of course," she says, her voice dripping honey.

_Is this my life, I'm wondering…_

Hours pass, blurring by into days. And I'm stuck, stuck in this cold, dark room, wishing on a star. Wishing that Aeneas will come and find me, will rescue me.

Every day, Turnus comes to this room, to intimidate me, I guess. He sits and talks incessantly about our wedding, which sends stabs of pain and longing through my heart. If I hadn't been taken, this would have been Aeneas and I discussing our city; laughing together, getting to know each other. If only it could be…

This particular day, _he _hasn't turned up, which is a small blessing in itself. I lean my head against the stone wall, letting my grease-filled, unwashed hair hang limply across my face, closing my eyes. I'm so tired. So tired…

I hear banging and clattering outside, but I don't move. The door flies open, and footsteps sound outside. "Bring her outside!" it's my mother's commanding voice.

My two guards, Felix and Verus, haul me up by the arms, and propel me after my mother. I let my head hang so I can just see the hem of her stola as she sweeps along in front of us. Another door opens and I am thrust into a chair, before the door slams shut.

Careful hands push my hair out of my eyes, and then my mother's face is looking into mine. "My darling," she says, with such tenderness it takes all my strength not to cry. Instead, I say in a trembling voice,

"I'm not your darling. I'm not."

She's not put off by this, but gets up and brings a bucket full of water over to me. I sit in silence as she calls for a slave-girl who starts to wash my hair.

"Your husband-to-be has gone out to fight," Mother tells me, settling herself in the chair opposite. I don't reply.

"Your other suitor," her lip curls – her tone turns icy, "Has gathered up an army. He's trying to rescue you." She laughs mirthlessly. "But it's all in vain. Turnus will be victorious."

"No, he won't." I say, feeling the tears well up. "He won't. He won't. He won't beat Aeneas."

"Oh, he will, daughter," Mother leans across me to instruct the slave girl. "Inna, please use the rose soap."

_There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes…_

Turnus only comes back for a brief visit at the end of May – he obviously didn't expect that Aeneas would hold out this long. I am in my mother's rooms when he strides in, wearing a new gold sword belt.

"Amata," he greets my mother with a smile. "Lavinia, love."

I fold my arms and stare unblinkingly at him as he settles himself into the chair next to me, extricating one of my hands and holding it tightly in his clammy palm.

"That old man is hanging on by a thread," he says confidently. I bristle to hear Aeneas referred to as an 'old man.' How dare Turnus degrade him so? How dare he? "I killed King Evander's son and now Evander's withdrawn from the alliance."

"That's good news," my mother gushes. "Very good news."

"It will be over soon, then we shall marry," he says. "How are the preparations coming along?"

"Well, well," my mother waves her hands dismissively. "The slaves have it under control."

"Good," he says. "Good."

_Put your hand in my hand, don't look back now…_

I'm back in my cell again, after the weekly hair wash, sitting on the straw pallet, and staring into space. We've had no word from Turnus since he came back for a visit two weeks ago, thank the gods. I keep hoping that he's died, but the whole city would be in uproar if that had happened.

The palace has been unusually quiet, though, even I've noticed that from my seclusion. All the men of fighting age have gone off to the battlefields, I guess. And most of them won't come back – poor devils. Poor devils.

I lean my head against the wall again, tracing a pattern on the skin of my knee. I'm still wearing this old sleeping tunic that I was taken in, which is a little strange. Why has my mother been obsessed with making sure I'm clean, only to dress me in this old tatty thing? Who knows what runs through her mind?

I let myself drift off into a daydream as I grow tired. Soon, though, I'm asleep.

I am woken by the sound of footsteps across the stone floor. My eyes flash open, and I scramble backwards instinctively, my vision still blurry from sleep.

"Lavinia?" I don't recognise the voice, but the accent is all too familiar. Trojan.

"Who are you?" I whisper.

"Iapyx," the voice says. I b link to clear my vision, and push my hair out of my eyes. In front of me crouches an old man, with white hair and a ready smile. "I'm taking you to Aeneas."

"But…where's Turnus?" I ask, bewildered.

"Dead," his smiles grows wider. "Killed on the field."

"Oh thank the gods!" I breathe, hiding my face in my hands to disguise the tears of relief welling in my eyes.

"Come, Lavinia," Iapyx says. I take in a huge breath, and stand up as he leads me out of my prison. We walk down the white hallways, taking a route I've never seen before, finally reaching the great hall. In the middle of the huge open space stands a familiar figure, with olive skin, dark hair, leaning on his sword. Aeneas.

A lump rises in my throat; I can't speak, I'm frozen, I can't move. He turns around, and catches sight of me, and his face breaks into the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I let out a strangled sob and start to run, flying across the room and launching myself into his arms. His sword drops to the floor with a clatter and he staggers backwards, before regaining his balance and holding me tightly to him. I put my head on his shoulder, and start to cry in earnest, my shoulders heaving with sobs I've kept pent up for the weeks I've been captive.

"Sshh, dear heart, sshh. Don't cry." Aeneas soothes me, rubbing his hand in circles on my back like you would with a fretful baby.

"I've missed you so much," I try to choke back the tears as Aeneas gently sets me on my feet.

"I missed you, too," he says, smiling down at me and wiping the tears off my face with the pad of his thumb.

"He's dead?" I ask, quietly, checking what Iapyx told me.

"Yes," Aeneas' expression turns grim. "He's dead."

"Good," I whisper. "Good."


	5. Chapter 5

_You take my hand and drag me headfirst, fearless…_

The women's side of the palace buzzes with life and laughter as we prepare for Aeneas' and my wedding. I sit in the centre of the whirlwind, joyously counting down the days.

You may ask what happened to my mother. The truth is, I don't know. Nor does anyone. When Aeneas stormed the palace, she had gone. Disappeared.

To be honest, I don't really care. I know this is a heartless thing to say, but after all she did to me…I think I have the right. My father, on the other hand, took it very badly, as I expected. Once upon a time, he loved her. Once upon a time.

But I mustn't hurt myself with thoughts of that. The sun is shining, and I'm sitting, being readied by Maruna and my mother's slave girl, Inna, who came back with us from Ardea. The other women are bustling around, laying out my beautiful bridal robes that have small glass beads sewn into them at the sleeves and the hems and arranging the long flame veil that belonged to my father's mother.

It is dark by the time I am ready, and it is a good six miles to Lavinium, our new city, which has been built on a bend in the river, close to where I first saw the Trojan ships enter the estuary.

I leave my chamber with the women following behind me, the flame veil floating in the breeze of my movement. My father is waiting in the courtyard by his dun stallion, Pax, and to my utter surprise, Sagitta.

"Father, how did you get Sagitta here?" I ask in disbelief as I walk forward to pat her nose.

"I didn't," he laughs – the first time he's laughed since my mother's disappearance. "She turned up and the gate, whinnying to be let in."

"Oh, you clever girl," I coo to Sagitta. "You pretty, clever girl."

She snorts, which makes my veil flutter. My father touches my shoulder. "You look lovely, daughter," he says, a smile stretching his face wide. "And there's a very patient man waiting to marry you."

"Yes," I smile at the mention of Aeneas. "There is."

The journey to Lavinium takes a good three hours – plenty of time for the wedding procession to throw nuts, and crack dirty jokes, as is the tradition here. I ride behind the three boys carrying the wedding torches and Maruna rides behind me on the sturdy chestnut mare she favours.

We finally reach the palace at the centre of Lavinium – the doors are open and I can see Aeneas standing there, his trademark half-smile on his face. I start to smile uncontrollably behind my veil as we approach – I can feel his eyes on me as I slide off Sagitta's back and approach the doorway.

As custom dictates, I rub wolf fat on the door posts and tie red wool around them, murmuring worship to Janus, god of doorways. Then I look up at Aeneas, who's eyes are sparkling in the dim light.

He asks the question that is asked; "Who are you?"

I smile, and say quietly, "Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia."

His face breaks into a proper smile, and he picks me up, carrying me over the threshold of our house, before kissing me, and setting me down inside. And so I was made his wife, and the mother of our people.

_'Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling…_

Our city grows up around us, faster and faster every day. There are lots of marriages this first year; Achates, who survived the war with Turnus, meets a farmer's daughter called Leilah, and they promptly fall in love, marrying a scarce month after Aeneas and I.

Leilah becomes one of my dearest friends in the weeks after she and Achates marry – she's so bouncy and happy that it's hard not to like her.

One summer's morning, the two of us are sitting in our favourite tree (just because I'm married doesn't mean I give up escaping to the woods!) with a picnic lunch, talking about anything and everything.

"Leilah, if I tell you something, promise not to tell anyone?" I ask. "Not even Achates?"

"What is said in this tree stays in this tree," Leilah says, miming locking her lips and throwing away the key.

"I might be with child," I blurt out.

Leilah looks stunned, then her face cracks into a grin. "Oh, Lavinia, I'm so pleased for you!" she gushes. "So pleased!"

"I haven't told Aeneas yet," I say holding up my hand. "I'm still not sure, but I've been feeling sick in the morning, and my course hasn't come since last month."

"Well, that should be a sure sign," she says, leaning back against the trunk. "Tell him, Lavinia. He'll be so happy."

Leilah was right – Aeneas was over the moon. The funny thing is that he's been treating me like I'm incredibly fragile since I gave him the good news. I've often had to tell him that I won't break if I walk the few hundred metres to the great hall.

My little Silvius is born in the middle of April the following year. Sitting in Aeneas' and my bed, looking into his scrunched up infant face, and I'm overcome by a surge of love and protectiveness. This is my little boy; he will be king of Latium someday.

Aeneas is completely in awe of his baby son – I swear, if I didn't tell him that he had a country to run, he'd hang over Silvius' cradle all day.

Ascanius, Aeneas' other son, seems pleased that he has a little brother, but I think that secretly, he wishes that it was a girl. Nevertheless, he is otherwise occupied – Aeneas gave him the villa at Alba Longa on the other side of Latium along with the adjoining village to rule as his own. I know this sounds awful, but I'm pleased that he is not here anymore, so I can pretend it's just Aeneas, Silvius and I. Just the three of us.

_Your little hand's wrapped around my finger, and it's so quiet in the world tonight…_

Three summers and three winters pass in a blur of light, colour and sound. In the third winter, I bear Aeneas another child – a girl whom we name Calliope.

Around the same time, Aeneas' favourite mare births a beautiful colt. We go and see him in the stables – Silvius clinging onto my hand and Calliope asleep in the sling around my neck.

"He'll be Silvius' horse," Aeneas tells me proudly. He leads out the mare to show Silvius how the colt follows her as close as he can, whinnying and snorting. Then he set Silvius up on the mare's back for a ride; Silvius loved it. He clutched the mare's mane with one hand, and his father's shoulder with the other, and made a soft "oo! oo!" noise, like a pigeon as he paraded around the stable yard. I smile at the two of them as I wait by the empty stall.

Every morning after that, Silvius would approach Aeneas, and ask "Wide?" very timidly, then Aeneas would take him out for his ride.


	6. Chapter 6

**This one's a short one, sorry!**

* * *

_I can't go back, I'm haunted…_

A few days after Silvius' first ride, Aeneas and Achates, along with some of the older Trojans ride out in search of the robbers who have started to take our cattle.

I stay inside, with my children and Leilah and her daughter, Flora. Silvius and Flora play happily on the floor together whilst Leilah coos over Calliope, who has just started to give everyone gummy smiles. "I hope they'll be home, soon," Leilah says, smiling.

"Why?" I ask, curiously.

"I have news for Achates," Leilah says mysteriously.

"Let me guess, you've burnt the house down?" I tease.

"No," she smirks. "Not even close."

"You're with child?"

"Yes," she grins.

"Oh, Leilah, that's wonderful!" I take both of her hands in mine. "Wonderful news!"

"I know, right?" she asks. "I think Achates wants a little boy this time, but I'm happy if it's either."

At this moment, the door bursts open. Both Leilah and I stand when we see that it is Achates. His face is white – stained with tear tracks. My heart thumps loudly in my chest as he walks slowly forward like he's aged a hundred years since this morning. He drops to his knees in front of me. "Forgive me, Lavinia. Forgive me," his voice is husky and he stares at the floor.

"What for?" my voice is brittle, my body is tense. Fearing the worst.

"Aeneas is dead."

_I don't want to wake up one day and not remember what time erased…_

My days after Aeneas' death pass in a daze. Every night, I go to sleep alone in our big bed, but I don't sleep. I just lie and weep, missing his arms around me. Most nights Silvius climbs in to join me. Bless him – he's too small to know what's happening, but he's still affected. He wants to know why I cry so much nowadays, why Achates won't play with him anymore, why Ascanius has come back from Alba Longa. He wants to know where his father is.

To stop my life becoming agony, I throw myself into looking after Calliope and Silvius, teaching Silvius to ride myself instead of entrusting him to one of Ascanius' friends, or cooing over whatever new thing Calliope managed that day. Achates often comes to watch and help. I know that he blames himself for Aeneas' death, and I know that because he couldn't help Aeneas, he is determined to help Aeneas' son.

My whole being resists this, but I will say it anyway. Achates loved Aeneas as a brother; he probably loved him as much as I did. I'm sure Achates came close to suicide that first summer – only Silvius and his own newborn son, named after Aeneas, seemed to keep him alive.

Ascanius takes over his father's rule of Latium – in the first few days, he relies on me to be a voice of reason, but as he gets more confident adjusting to his father's shoes, he grows away. He moves his rule base from Lavinium to Alba Longa, and marries a neighbouring princess, Salica of Ardea.

I am glad that I don't have to see Ascanius – I know he grieves for his father, but I don't feel any attachment to him, and I found it incredibly awkward advising him when he is a scant three years younger than I.

He rules well, and I am left in peace.


	7. Chapter 7

**And it's the end! Thank you for reading it, and I commend you for reading right to the end of this!**

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Epilogue – Fifteen Years Later

_You can crash and burn and now I'm someone new…_

"Mother!" Calliope calls. "Mother, they're here!"

"I'm coming, my darling," I say, getting up from my chair beside Leilah and following my fifteen year old daughter to the front gate where a train of horses are just clattering into the courtyard. Calliope has already run over to the lead rider, who is dismounting from his fine dun stallion. I walk more slowly to join them, holding my beautiful son to me for a few seconds.

"Mother," he smiles at me, turning to the beautiful girl mounted on a horse beside him. He helps her down, and holds her hand as they turn to face me. "This is my betrothed, Ramtha. Ramtha, this is my mother, Lavinia and my sister, Calliope."

"It is lovely to meet you, Ramtha," I smile at the girl, who smiles tentatively back at me.

"It is nice to meet you too, Queen Lavinia and Princess Calliope."

"Please, it's Mother Lavinia to you," I say to her. "Calliope, would you like to show Ramtha to her room."

"Yes, Mother," my daughter says. "Come on, Ramtha!"

Silvius and I smile after them as they walk away, talking happily. I link my arm through my son's, and we start to walk towards the great hall, across the threshold that Aeneas carried me across the night of our wedding.

"She's beautiful," I tell my son.

"I knew you'd like her, Mother," he says.

"I do," I say.

Three weeks later, we host a beautiful wedding for them. No more than a year later, the children start to come, a girl, a boy, a boy, a girl, and I am the grandmother queen, looking after a houseful of squealing grandchildren.

Three years after Silvius marries, Calliope also marries – Achates' and Leilah's son, Aeneas who has grown into a fine young man, and they have three delightful children and are very happy in their little house near the palace.

You may ask if I've forgotten Aeneas, and the answer is no. I'd never forget him – every day, I wish that he was by my side, smiling at his grandchildren and helpling Silvius rule Latium. But I've come to terms with his death – everyone must die sometime, and he had a good life, and he'll be in Elsyium, waiting for me.

FINIS.


End file.
